This Time Around
by Goose41
Summary: Let's just say Oscar Vega's father gets remarried - yet again...and Angie and Oscar attend the wedding together - yet again. Needless to say, it's a little AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Definitely not mine, hit or miss a few characters here and there.**

**Author's Note: Don't worry, I'll continue this. This is just a small [granted, large] piece I've been working on while ironing out some kinks with _Distance_. I felt you guys deserved a larger piece (even if it's in sections).**

**Summary: Let's just say Oscar Vega's father gets remarried - yet again...and Angie and Oscar attend the wedding together - yet again. Needless to say, it's a little AU.**

* * *

"Uh, Detective Vega? This came for you while you were out," Lucas announced as his colleagues entered the bullpen and were headed for their desks. Holding out a small cream colored envelope toward Vega, he looked on questioningly as Vega let the envelope hang for a moment in the space between them. Furrowing his brow, Lucas spoke up again; "Detective Vega?"

Propping himself up on his desk with one hand, Vega stared intently at the envelope dangling from its position between Lucas' fingertips. Inhaling deeply, Vega stood up straight before gently taking the offending object from his associate and let it flutter into the waste basket beside his desk and turning back toward the evidence board behind him. Running his fingers across his beard, he blindly reached out for his chair before spinning it toward the board as well and falling gracefully into the seat.

Curiously watching the scene before her, Angie frowned as she watched her partner, but wisely chose to remain quiet. Turning in her own chair toward her computer, she stole a glance in his direction and noted how the scowl deepened the lines upon his face. For a moment, the only noise to be heard was the soft clicking of the keys as she input some new information into the records database as she followed a hunch. Her fingers paused over the keys momentarily as she snuck a peek in his direction once more.

"It's nothing, Angie. Don't worry about it," Vega spoke softly without moving his eyes from where they were trained on the information before him.

Angie swept a hand through her blonde curls as she turned to face her partner more fully. The muted squeal of the chair's wheels drew his attention toward her as she glided across the void between them, watching her snatch the envelope from its resting place atop the other trash. Sweeping a delicate fingernail beneath the seal, Angie opened the envelope before removing the contents within in it. Smiling sympathetically, Angie brought her eyes to his before placing the articles on the corner of his desk.

"You can't ignore this, Oscar," Angie finally spoke up quietly.

"I can't?" Oscar questioned abruptly, spinning in his chair toward his own computer. Sliding his glasses up the ridge of his nose, he brought his right hand back down and swept the envelope and its contents back over the edge of his desk; paying little attention as to whether the items landed in the waste basket.

With lightning fast reflexes, Angie snatched the papers before they had a chance to land in the waste basket once more. Clutching the items tightly in her right hand, Angie laid her left hand across his forearm and stroked gently. At this point, she didn't care who saw them. "Oscar," she began, "you don't mean that. You'll go and have a good time. Okay, so maybe not the greatest time, but you'll perform your duties, congratulate the happy couple, and head on your merry way. See? It will be a piece of cake; in fact, you should enjoy said piece of cake when you go."

Peering down at his arms crossed in front of his keyboard, Oscar sighed softly as he glanced over toward the bullpen's entrance and back toward Angie. "Fine," he uttered so quietly that Angie wasn't sure if he had actually said anything at all. "On one condition…" he trailed off.

"Yes," she replied, not needing him to continue. Lifting her hand from his wrist, she pointed her pointer finger in his face; "Yes, but this means I get your piece of cake, too," smirking to him as she replied.

Smiling gently, Oscar nodded before turning back to the file that lay in front of him.

* * *

Checking her makeup one last time in the mirror, Angie smiled as she saw her partner rounding the tail end of the car to come around and open her door. With a soft click, the door swung wide to reveal a strong hand reaching down toward her own open palm. Placing her hand within her partner's she swung her legs over the threshold and allowed him to escort her out of the vehicle and waited patiently as he closed the door behind her and slipped the valet the key.

Smoothing her black gown and pulling her coat tighter around her, Angie came to an abrupt halt at the end of the pathway and stood in awe at the view of the grand structure that sprawled out before her. Speechless, she turned gaping toward her partner, where at least Oscar had the decency to look somewhat apologetic.

"Okay – I mean, really? When I asked if your father had reserved a country club for the wedding, you really weren't joking when you said he didn't need to," Angie finally spoke.

Oscar shrugged sheepishly before extending his elbow toward her to escort her up the long illuminated pathway. Angie gently looped her arm through his as they started their journey toward the elaborate estate. A doorman appeared behind the opening door as Angie stepped through the entrance while taking in the ornate trimmings garnishing the entry way.

"Holy sh – " she caught herself just in time as a distinguished gentleman in coattails appeared all of a sudden at her side.

"Good evening, Mr. Vega; Ms…?" the butler greeted them.

"Flynn," Oscar supplied. "Good evening, Charlie."

The young doorman returned from closing the door behind them and offered to take their coats. Slowly sliding the coat from its position, Angie's eyelids briefly fluttered closed as Oscar's calloused fingertips brushed over her neck and across her shoulders before passing it to the young attendant.

Charlie, an amiable older man, smiled politely at Oscar. "Your father will be very pleased to see you sir. You can find him in his suite. May I escort you to your seat, Ms. Flynn?"

"That's all right, Charlie. I'll escort Ms. Flynn to her seat this evening. Thank you, though," Oscar answered in return. Charlie took his cue to turn back toward his station to await the arrival of other guests. Shortly thereafter, an elderly couple entered the estate, and Charlie and his young shadow went back to work.

Taking a moment to appreciate her surroundings and then turning to face her partner, Angie blinked widely before bringing her eyes back to meet his. Oscar smirked as he watched Angie attempt to acclimate herself to the new environment. Shoving his fists into his pants pockets, he waited for Angie to speak first.

"Wow," she breathed. "Oscar, I don't want to say that I had no idea, but I don't think this is at all what I was expecting."

"I'm sorry," he offered quietly. "If this makes you uncomfortable –"

Angie interrupted him before he could continue. "No! No, not uncomfortable," she answered with a small smile. "Just – unexpected, I suppose."

"Oh. Okay, then. Um…would you like to find your seat for the evening?" Oscar asked nervously.

Sliding her hand down his arm, Angie gently pulled his right hand from its haven and laced her fingers through his, squeezing tightly for a brief second. "Absolutely," she smiled. "Please; lead the way."

* * *

After spending a few quick moments getting Angie situated, Oscar begrudgingly had to take leave in order to find his father. Knocking quietly on the bedroom suite's door, Oscar waited a short moment before hearing his father invite him in from the other side.

"Ah, yes! Oscar! Thanks for coming," his father greeted him.

"Yes, sir. Any time," Oscar replied, staring intently at his polished shoes before looking up to his father.

"Now, now. Stop that," his father replied. "I wish you wouldn't call me that. I'm your father for God's sake; the least you can do is act like you're happy to see me."

"Sorry, sir," Oscar grimaced as the words left his lips. "And I am; I'm just – just a little shocked I suppose. But I want you to be happy, so..." he trailed off.

"Thank you, son," the older man replied. "I'd like to think that Celeste will do just that."

Nodding more to himself than his father, Oscar briefly wondered whether he should bother to commit this one's name to memory. By the time he memorized the last three, the ink had been dry on the divorce papers. Sighing softly, he met his father's gaze once more.

"So, um – how is this going to work?" Oscar questioned.

"Well, son, you have always been my best man, as you well know," his father began. "Celeste and I figured we'd try something a little different this time. I hope you don't feel put out, but we were kind of hoping to keep this occasion a bit more…intimate, shall we say."

Oscar bit back a small laugh; intimate he scoffed to himself. Only his father would call inviting over one hundred of his friends and colleagues intimate. His father smiled before continuing his explanation of the night's events.

"With that in mind, Celeste thought it would be nice if we didn't have a wedding party. You know, maid of honor, best man, the whole nine yards," he father finished. Oscar mentally noted how he had said 'maid of honor,' not 'matron'. That typically meant that bride-to-be was ten years his junior, let alone another thirty years behind his father, the groom-to-be. And they say love isn't blind, he mentally noted.

"I can respect that," Oscar began, being of the firm opinion that he actually preferred it this way. He always figured the less attention on him, the better. "So…I guess that means it will just be the three of you up there?" referring to his father, the new bride, and priest.

"Yep!" his father replied jovially. "Less chance of you losing the ring, too," his father chuckled to himself.

"Okay…" he responded in turn. "I guess congratulations are in order then," Oscar answered as he offered his outstretched hand towards his father for a handshake.

Knocking the hand to one side, Oscar's father reached around his son and engulfed him in a large embrace, slapping him on the back loudly. Oscar flinched at the contact before bringing his own hands up to gently embrace his father awkwardly. With a loud sigh, his father moved away from him to snatch the bow tie resting on the dresser to his left.

"Now then – do you think you've got a minute to help your old man?" his father spoke with a large grin across his face and strip of fabric hanging from his fingertips.

Oscar reached over to take the tie with a slight smile; "Sure…Dad."

* * *

As Angie swept her eyes across the room once more, she was surprised at the number of people in attendance. A large part of her just assumed that after multiple marriages, one would prefer a smaller affair; something less…spectacle-like. Apparently, she had assumed wrong.

Amidst the whispers and people watching, Angie had gathered that the bride-to-be was quite young. Well, probably still younger than her at least. She also noted that Oscar had very little family, if any at all, in attendance. The attendants on his father's side of the room, where she presently sat, appeared to be mostly associates and former business partners of his father. She was willing to bet that there wasn't a single one amongst them that could tell her something remotely personal about their so-called friend. Oh, well, she thought.

Not that she had ever given much thought to her own nonexistent wedding, or subsequent marriage for that matter, but Angie decided then that it would never look like this. While the home and its furnishings were beautiful and extravagant, Angie still couldn't shake the feeling that none of the items held any sentimental value. The thought alone made Angie feel slightly suppressed and much like the spectators had assembled for this union in a gallery of sorts; high price tags, a no touch policy, that sort of thing.

Distracted by a slight commotion at the back of the room, Angie shifted in her seat in time to see Oscar's father slide down the length of the far wall to greet the priest at the front of the room whilst stopping every few steps to shake a dozen hands. While this wasn't the first time she had ever seen the older Vega, she was struck by the stark contrast between father and son. As she began to turn back toward the front of the room, Angie was startled to see a figure sliding into the aisle seat next to hers and attributed her uneasiness to the foreign nature of the situation.

Turning to face the stranger more fully, she came face to face with the sheepish grin of her partner. Shooting him a questioning glance, Angie's words died on her lips as the music commenced and she took her cue to remain silent – which only lasted a few short seconds.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, leaning over toward Oscar.

"Attending my father's wedding. What are you doing?" he replied dryly, never taking his eyes away from action in front of him.

Mouth gaping, Angie paused for a moment before turning back toward the front of the room just in time to see the bride's father pass her off to her future groom. As the priest invited the guests to take their seats, Angie took the opportunity to pinch her partner, smirking as he quickly pulled his arm away to avoid any injury. "You know what I mean," she whispered.

"I do," Oscar replied out of the corner of his mouth. "I'll explain later. Now be quiet. I'd hate to be escorted from my own father's wedding because someone couldn't behave themselves. We haven't even had our cake yet."

Shaking her head in admonition, Angie returned her focus to the bride and groom as they exchanged vows before friends and family. While she definitely wasn't keen on the idea of being married multiple times over, Angie couldn't help but feel a tiny pang of jealousy as she watched the happy couple – even if it turned out to momentary bliss. She knew she appeared bitter and jaded when it came to the concept of love, but there was more to her than the gun and the badge. She was human, too, she thought, blinking back the moisture in her eyes and concentrating on the vows being exchanged.

* * *

Immediately following the ceremony, the priest had invited the guests to join the happy couple in the courtyard for a lively reception. Angie took a moment to excuse herself to the powder room while the other guests milled about, chatting amicably amongst themselves while locating their assigned seats under the enormous pavilion stretched across the manicured lawn.

Emerging from the estate, Angie stopped at the top of the balcony's stairs as she took in the scene in front of her. Dozens of men and women crisscrossed the lush grass as they moved to their respective tables under the twinkling luminaries suspended from the pavilion's frame. Searching the crowd for her partner's face, she was once again astonished at the number of guests in attendance.

Catching a glimpse of Oscar on the far edge of the pavilion, she watched as he leaned a shoulder against a leg of the structure and took a long drink from the tumbler in his hand. Keeping her eyes trained on him, she smiled at him as he looked up in time to see her carefully descend the flight of steps. Weaving his way through the crowd, Oscar picked up another tumbler from the waiter passing by on his way to greet his partner at the edge of the tent. Nodding in appreciation, Angie sipped from the small straw in her glass before lowering it back down to her palm.

"So, partner, did you figure out where we're supposed to be seated?" she questioned.

Nodding his head toward a slightly obscured table toward the back of the tent, he smirked as he replied, "I managed to snag a couple of seats over there."

Frowning at him, Angie waited a moment before slipped her arm through his unassumingly. "You know, I may be wrong, but being the son of the groom, I would think that you'd be required to just a tad closer to the special couple," she whispered conspiratorially.

Leisurely escorting her through the crowd, Oscar glanced back to her and responded, "Amazingly enough, you would be wrong. You see, I have it on good authority that Mr. and Mrs. Benz can't see or hear too well. Being the considerate man that I am, I graciously guided them to their seats, which may or may not have been ours – originally. Therefore, with two seats left available at this delightful table back here, I figured we could claim them."

Arriving at the table, Oscar gently pulled one of the empty chairs and politely invited her to take a seat before pulling his own chair out to be seated himself. With a sigh, Oscar raised his eyebrows in her direction before being distracted by an elderly man in glasses seated directly across from him.

"Oliver?" the older man asked.

Angie was careful not to choke as she sipped on the drink in her hand, gently setting the glass down on the table before settling her right hand across her lips to stifle a laugh.

"Uh, it's Oscar, Mr. Davis," Oscar replied graciously.

"I knew it was you! How in the hell are you, my boy?" the gentleman asked loudly.

"I'm, uh – I'm fine; well. And you, Mr. Davis?" he asked.

"Oh, fine as a hair on a grasshopper. And who might this lovely young lady be, Oliver?"

Oscar glanced down at the table's centerpiece and pursed his lips before replying, "My partner, sir. Angie Flynn, this is Henry Davis; one of my father's former business associates."

"Oh, please, darlin' – my friends all call me Hank," the man offered. "So…partner, eh? I'll never understand why you young folks don't just call each other by what you really are. Wife, girlfriend, whatever. It don't matter none. But no, now you folks just go around calling each other 'partner,' like it's more respectful or somethin'. Not me; no sir, I just think it sounds impersonal," the man wrapped up his rant with a sigh. "Damn fools, think you know somethin' about treatin' each other right."

Scratching his left hand across his bearded chin, Oscar propped his cheek upon the hand as he turned toward Angie with a raised eyebrow and amused smirk. Gently nudging his right shin under the table with her the toe of her shoe, Angie dropped her gaze to stare intently at her lap while reaching out to pinch his right thigh. Before she could secure her fingertips, Oscar deflected her attempts by squeezing his fingers around her own before loosening them once again, leaving his palm over her hand as she splayed her fingers across his knee.

* * *

As expected the gourmet meal had been fantastic. Eventually, Oscar was summoned toward the front to say a few words. His speech had been concise, yet heartfelt; a task with which Angie could tell he had struggled, but figured no one else could really discern. Public attention was not something of which her partner took a great liking.

From her seat, Angie could see the new bride smiling radiantly at her father as he spun her around the dance floor amongst an assortment of other couples. Smiling gently to herself, Angie's attention was interrupted by a light touch settling upon her shoulder. Peering up to the face connected to the hand, Angie was pleasantly surprised to see Oscar's father.

"Mr. Vega! Congratulations, sir!" she proclaimed from her seat with a wide smile.

"Oh, shush. You too?" he questioned.

"I'm sorry, sir?" Angie asked, not quite understanding his remark.

The older Vega simply shook his head before settling into the seat beside her. "Nothing. Well, okay – not nothing, per se. It's just that Oscar does the same thing; you know, the 'sir' thing."

Angie smiled apologetically at her new neighbor. "I guess old habits die hard," she supplied after a brief moment of silence passed between them.

"Hmm," the man hummed. "Maybe."

Angie frowned, "No? You don't think so?"

The older man sighed before looking off into the distance. "Sometimes I wonder…I suppose it hasn't been easy, but does he have to make this so damn hard?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't believe I follow," she replied.

A heavy pause hung in the air before the older Vega responded. "I loved his mother, you know. I truly did. But with her gone, it wasn't exactly easy, and especially hard for us to…connect. After all, he always did take after her. So what was I supposed to do? I wasn't looking to erase her from our lives, or even replace her. Was I supposed to be alone for the rest of my life?" the older man sighed.

"I'm sure that's not what he expected from you, Mr. Vega," Angie answered, searching for any sign of her partner throughout the crowded tent.

"Oh? No? Well, it certainly feels like it at times," he responded. "Okay, Ms. Flynn; seeing as you seem to know my son so well, you tell me then. What did he expect from me?"

Elegantly rising to stand, Angie gently pushed her chair in and brushed her small hand across the man's shoulder. "I think that's a conversation best left between the two of you, sir. But for what it's worth, I don't think it was this," she remarked as she gestured with her hand at the grand affair.

"I gave him everything he ever could have possibly wanted!" he whispered forcefully.

"Maybe it was more about what he needed, Mr. Vega. He was a scared and sad young boy once, and I'd hazard a guess to say that a memory of that boy is still living deep within him," Angie recognized out loud.

The older man's eyebrows furrowed as her words sunk in. With a heavy sigh, he stood to face Angie and quirked his lips as he wrestled with his thoughts. Finally, he reached out and firmly grasped her knotted hands within his own large ones.

"You're good for him, Ms. Flynn, in ways that I can't pretend to understand, so I won't try. But what I will ask of you is that you simply don't give up on him, move on from him, or even leave him behind."

Although the man's comment caught her off guard, Angie had to be honest with herself. After everything that she had been through with her partner, there was a piece of her heart and mind that thought she could possibly protect him better if he didn't have to clean up after her. In her mind, she wasn't exactly a prize, which was part of the reason she thought that detachment would be beneficial – she couldn't let herself hold him back, or even bring him down.

Regardless, the process of extricating herself from his life came with a lot of little strings attached. It was easy to use excuses like the job and Manny to keep herself coming back to Oscar; but if those were truly the reasons, she asked herself, would she be here tonight? Angie understood early on in her line of work that trust was the foundation to any solid partnership – especially theirs. Over the course of time, she'd learned that trust was hardly suitable to describe their relationship. While she could trust him not to reveal her insecurities to others, she could trust him even more not to push her to reveal her own secrets until the time was right for her and she was comfortable; the depth of knowledge it took for someone to know you better than you knew yourself.

"If you'll excuse me, Ms. Flynn, I believe it is time for me to grace the dance floor once again with my presence. I do hope you'll save one for me, yes?" the man next to her interrupted her musings.

Smiling radiantly at the man, Angie squeezed his hand in hers. "Absolutely, Mr. Vega. It's been a pleasure, and I'll check in with you later."

And with that, the older Vega weaved his way through the thick crowd before disappearing completely. Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, Angie looked around for any sign of her missing partner. Unable to place him from her low position amongst the guests of the party, Angie decided that the proper course of action would be to seek out higher ground to assist in her search. Reaching the outer edge of the tent, Angie momentarily paused before heading for the courtyard staircase that led back up onto the balcony above.

* * *

Oscar had taken a momentary reprieve inside the estate for a modest retreat away from the boisterous wedding guests, which ultimately turned into an extended stay as he wandered the lengths of the corridors in search of tranquility. With a long blink, he attempted to clear his tired eyes as he brought his eyes to rub them carefully and pinch the bridge of his nose. Glancing down at his watch, he noted the time and realized that his trip through the halls had lasted longer than he expected.

Moving toward balcony doorway, Oscar sighed deeply before pushing the door open and allowing the din of the party below to ascend to him. Clicking the door in place behind him, he wandered toward the edge of the balcony and leaned over to prop his elbows on the railing beneath him. Every one of the guests appeared to be enjoying themselves, some chatting animatedly about this and that, while others were dancing enthusiastically on the dance floor. Other than the songs for the first dance and father/bride dance, the majority of the DJ's playlist consisted of pulsing beats that quickly induced headaches, or at least did little to keep the dull throb at bay.

Lifting himself up and away from the railing, Oscar gently brushed his elbows before sauntering across the balcony toward a stone bench resting in the far corner. Falling down with a heavy sigh, Oscar turned so he faced the dark nighttime sky and began to study the constellations as they littered the vast expanse above him as he attempted to drown out the noise around him. He was so caught up in ignoring the world around him that he never heard his intruder approach, or softly call his name.

As Angie rounded the corner of the balcony, she sensed that she was no longer alone. Quietly moving forward across the elaborate terrace, she squinted to make out a figure in the distance against the far end of the flat surface. She continued her forward momentum and let her feet carry her to the bench where her partner sat, facing away from the commotion of the wedding party below. With a large sigh, she watched as Oscar's head bowed and shoulders sagged, and she envisioned a heavy weight settling across the width of his shoulders.

Gently sitting upon the bench to his left, Angie sat quietly as she let the wave of silence wash over her. After a few minutes, she spoke without turning to face her partner. "Tell me about her," she whispered softly.

Lifting his head slightly, Oscar turned to face his partner before turning back to shadowy horizon in front of them. Inhaling deeply, Oscar paused before speaking; "How'd you know?"

Angie calmly shrugged her shoulders and then shivered in the cool night's breeze.

Shrugging his suit jacket off of his own broad shoulders, Oscar lifted the garment and draped it over her slight frame next to him. Trailing his hands down the length of her arms, he squeezed just above her elbows before returning his clasped hands to his lap. Fidgeting with his flexed fingers, Oscar attempted to put his thoughts into words.

"Kind; compassionate. Clever. Beautiful…God, Ang, she was radiant. But she had this peaceful way about her, so unassuming," Oscar started quietly. Smiling wistfully, he turned toward his partner as she placed her palm over his restless digits, instantaneously stilling their movement.

"Kind of like you, huh?" Angie smirked in his direction.

Scoffing to himself, Oscar vehemently shook his head. "No, no – not like me."

Squeezing his fingers, Angie willed Oscar to look at her as she lowered her head to better look him in the eye. "Yes, partner – a helluva a lot like you," she remarked, speaking softly to him.

"She would have loved you, Ang," he spoke up after a beat of silence. "I wish you could have known her."

At the unsolicited compliment, a wave of warmth washed over her as she tried not to blush. Lowering her head down to Oscar's shoulder, Angie smiled gently as she said, "I feel like I already do – and, I think I can safely say that I know I would have adored her."

* * *

**Comments/Questions/Suggestions - Throw them at me, please! You guys are an awesome bunch. If I haven't told you that personally, please take this as a personal note to you. You are all wonderful writers and readers/reviewers. As they say on PBS, it's "thanks to viewers like you" that make this possible.**

**Keep up the good work, guys!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't think they'll ever be mine...not even on Valentine's Day.**

**Author's Note: So this chapter is shorter than the first, but you guys have been waiting forever so I thought I'd post it, rather than suffer a bit longer. Thank you all for being so patient. Oh, and grab tissues - just in case.**

* * *

Oscar allowed a slight smile to cross his face as he escorted Angie back down the stairway toward the festivities below still in full swing. Carefully steering them through the crowd, he came to a stop at the edge of the dance floor before turning back toward his partner. "Did you – uh – would you like to dance?" he asked, nervously scratching the back of his neck with a trembling hand.

Snatching his other hand, Angie spun him quickly as she pulled him onto the hardwood floor, laughing as he struggled to keep his feet under him. Wedging her way through a handful of couples, she guided him toward the center of the floor as she claimed the area as their own. She grasped his hands tightly before dropping them to her hips and brought her own hands to encircle his neck and danced her fingernails along the edge of his collared neck, laughing gently as he squirmed at first.

An upbeat song faded into a slower one as deliberate notes began to float through the air. Tightening her arms around his neck, Angie encouraged Oscar to step closer towards her swaying body as her fingertips twirled in small curls at the base of his neck. Briefly untangling one arm, she smoothed her right hand down across his shoulder and chest to play with the black and silver tie around his neck.

"Is this –, "Angie began to question.

"Yes; yes it is," Oscar replied before she could completely finish her inquiry.

"Wait – I thought you told me you got rid of this thing," she smirked up at him, fingering the strip of fabric.

"I'll admit that I may have been overstating it a bit," he grinned sheepishly.

"Why, you little…okay, fine. If we're playing that game, then I guess I should be honest with you, too." Angie threw back at him as she raised her arm to once again join its other half around his neck.

"What – you still have a tie that I bought you five years ago?" he teased, squinting his eyes at her.

"No. No – but I do still have the scarf you let me borrow during our third case. You know, in the spirit of full disclosure and all," she admitted to him.

"Wait, what? You still have that? I thought you lost it," Oscar laughed, squeezing her hips briefly.

"Yeah, 'I may have been overstating it a bit' when I told you that I lost it," Angie grinned.

Shaking his head in amusement, Oscar quietly chuckled. "Can I expect it back any time soon?" he asked.

"Uh, no," Angie began. "It's not like you need it any way. You've got another one now; which means you've got one and I've got one, it's a win-win."

"Wait a minute – they're both mine!" he cried incredulously. "How is that a 'win-win'?"

"Well...," she paused as she thought about it. "Look at it this way; you've got one to keep you warm, and now I have one to keep me warm, too, which ultimately means less harassment from me," Angie grinned at him.

"Can I quote you on that? 'Less harassment;' I've gotta admit, partner, I have my doubts," Oscar grinned back.

Sneaking her fingertips down, Angie quickly pinched his earlobe before gently rubbing the reddened blemish on his ear. "Be nice to me!" she whispered. "I'm liable to start taking other things," she winked before chuckling as her partner's eyebrow climbed up his forehead. "Honestly, though, why did you even keep this silly thing?"

Oscar bit his lower lip as he shrugged his shoulders. "Ang, it's a simple piece of fabric – no big deal, right?"

"No, you're right – sure. No big deal. So I guess the real question is why did you lie to me about it?" Angie prodded him further.

Dropping his gaze, Oscar held her tightly as they swayed while he took a moment to collect his thoughts. "I guess I just thought that it wouldn't matter. I know you told me a few months after Christmas that you only bought it because you didn't know what else to get your new partner, but I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it," he said, looking back up to her shyly.

Nodding to herself, Angie smiled softly back at her partner. Dropping the subject, she didn't want to make him any more uncomfortable than he was. Oscar Vega could never be called materialistic, but he had just revealed a sentimental streak that made Angie feel warm inside. "You're the peanut butter to my jelly, partner – why else do you think I still have your scarf?" she asked him, hoping to level the playing ground between them and eliciting a wistful smile from the man. Frowning, Angie realized the gravity of her statement and suddenly knew – her partner, the man who shared a stronger bond with her than even her own son, was questioning the sincerity of her words. She had no one to blame, but herself.

Noticing the slight shift in demeanor, Angie let silence hang in the thick air between them as they danced quietly for a long moment, taking the time to observe the couples around her. As the song ended, the guests of honor slowed to a stop along with their company, and the wedded couple made their way toward a centrally located table displaying an elaborately adorned three-tiered confection at the front of the dance floor. Everyone in attendance turned their attention toward the couple standing behind the beautiful cake.

Seizing the moment, Angie pulled her partner toward the back of the tent as some of their fellow party goers reclaimed their own seats and others observed the occasion with smiles. Making a detour past their own table, Angie continued her path to the edge of the tent and kept on through the grass toward the outer edges of the garden surrounding them. Reaching a break in the foliage, Angie drew Oscar closer to her as they continued along a dimly illuminated footpath. Smiling ruefully, she mentally noted the symbolism of their trek across the grounds. Much like with their partnership, she often led while he followed close behind, even if he was ultimately more knowledgeable about their situation; never dominating, but always quietly guiding.

* * *

Blindly following the path, Angie's march had deposited them at a quiet overlook where the threads of orange and pink of the sunset were giving way to a deeper violet of night. The transition of the warm hues to cool painted across the coastline was reminiscent of the cold distance that had slowly been creeping into their relationship as of late. Whilst admiring the beauty of the dusk, Angie longed for the metaphorical sunrise as she sought the opportunity to start again. An almost oppressive stillness hung in the air until the moment seemed right, as Angie began to talk and truly listen to Oscar.

Dismantling the wall that had formed between them, Oscar and Angie found themselves rediscovering one another brick by brick. While they had known each other a long time, and trusted each other for nearly as long, this evening together was essentially a start towards the reformation of the strained partnership. The bricks formerly used to shield themselves found new life as each one was repurposed for rebuilding the connection between them.

Neither one was so naive as to believe that everything would be washed anew, but encouraged by the strong strides in the proper direction - a great relief to both of them. Minutes passed as the duo shared tales of a time long ago, simply enjoying the company of each other.

"Do you remember who you were before the world told you who you were supposed to be?" Angie asked suddenly breaking a particularly long stretch of silence. Hardly confident, she had still learned somewhere along the way to be self-reliant when no one else would support her, a mode of operation that suited her just fine until he walked into her life. Oscar's mere presence managed to turn her world upside down with his quiet reassurance as he stood by her decisions, through thick and thin, with the unintended consequence of making her second guess herself. Never intending harm, his company was the subtle reminder that she wasn't in this fight alone, a gentle note to remember there were those who cared for her and relied on her.

Oscar paused for a long moment before answering, "Sort of – but I guess you could say I'm glad the world spoke up."

"Really?" Angie questioned, somewhat surprised by his answer, after spending the evening trading an array of stories - some more heartbreaking than others.

With a sharp nod, Oscar looked her in the eye as he answered unwavering, "Without a doubt in my mind."

Angie briefly had to remind herself to breathe, almost choking on her reply. "Wh-" pausing to clear her throat; "Why would you say that?" she asked curiously.

Shrugging his shoulders, Oscar peered out over the vast ocean below. For a moment, all that was heard was the muffled celebration and the waves slapping the sand of the beach. Turning ever so slightly, he met Angie's eyes for a long moment before answering. "The world bends us, Ang, and sometimes it's to the point of breaking us. But it's us who gets to decide whether we're going to shatter or bend into a shape more beautiful than we ever could have imagined." Smirking at his companion, he took a deep breath before gazing back into the abyss. "We're never really ready for it, but the things that affect us - events, circumstances, people - help is decide whether to bend, or shatter, and ultimately decide whether or not all the good and the bad, even the beauty and the ugliness, are worth it. Sometimes, we even break so our pieces can fit together differently, that's all," he concluded.

Taking in his pale complexion painted by the moon above, she committed the valleys and mountains etched into his profile to memory. Worn with age and experience, the lines drawn around his eyes were a roadmap that illustrated the laughter and the sorrow endured throughout the years. Drawing in a deep breath, Angie finally took the plunge that she knew he would never force upon her. "Oscar, I – I just wanted to say –"

Oscar interrupted her before she could finish, "I know. And it's okay."

Shaking her head vehemently, her golden curls whipped back and forth. Reaching for his hands, she silently pleaded with him to look at her. "Oscar, no. I have to say this. I'm not sure I'll ever get the nerve to say it again, so please, bear with me."

Staring downwards to where her hands gripped his tightly, he turned them over so that he was enveloping her own small fingers. Nodding to her to let her know he was listening, he waited patiently to give her the time she needed to compose herself and compile her thoughts.

"Oscar…Oscar, I was – no, I am horrible to you; for you, even. Not only am I a lousy partner, but I'm an even more horrible friend. I did the unforgivable when I put you in the position I did, and you – you being you – you took it, even embraced it, in a way that I can't begin to even fathom. You must hate me, and believe me – I'd understood if you did," Angie pleaded. "I only hope in time you'll come to understand the choices I made, and why I had to make them. I…I just – I just…" she trailed off, not exactly knowing what else to say for the time being.

Oscar stood silently for a long moment as he stared at their joined hands and then dropped his gaze to his shoes. Flexing his toes, he could feel the knuckles rise up and rub across the inside of his shoes before he relaxed them once again. Sighing deeply, he lifted his gaze to his partner, who was staring at her own shoes and blinking back tears. When she went to pull her own hand from his to whisk away a stray tear as it rolled down her cheek, he shifted them so that he could grasp both of hers into his left palm and brought his right hand up to cup her cheek to wipe away the errant drop.

"Angie...I want you to hold on to what I said about bending, and even breaking. So we're bent, Ang, maybe even broken a bit. But the fact remains that all the pieces can be accounted for, and so we, as partners and especially as friends, are going to use these pieces and make them into something beautiful again. It may be different, but it's going to be good. Because we are good, Ang," Oscar clarified. "For the record, I could never hate you. You may not understand it now, but you will some day."

Angie's eyelids fluttered closed as she breathed deeply for minute, silently letting his words wash over her as she tried to regain self-control. Opening her deep blue eyes, Oscar was struck by the notion of how the unshed tears surrounding her irises made them look like small pools of fresh water. "I – I don't even know who I am anymore," she murmured quietly. "I can't ask you to forgive me, if I don't even know if I can forgive myself."

Lifting her chin gently, Oscar waited patiently until Angie looked him in the eye as he mulled over his thoughts quietly. Finally meeting his gaze, Oscar gripped her fingers tightly before interlacing his fingers with hers and whispered quietly, "You don't really know someone until you've seen their demons, Ang."

Sighing deeply, Angie began to pull her hands away from him until he stopped her momentum by gripping even tighter. "It's when you forgive their demons that you can finally admit you love them," Oscar finished. As she let his words flow through her, Angie released a stunted breath as she blinked back tears.

"Don't – please, just…don't…" Angie began.

"Don't what, Ang?" Oscar questioned.

"Don't say that!" Angie raised her voice, nearly shouting at him. "Don't say something you don't mean, and don't say something you can't take back!" Pulling her hands from his firm grip, she turned away from him and began to pace back and forth as she pulled his jacket tighter around her slight frame gripped her hands together. "You don't get to do that…," she spoke shyly with her back turned.

Breathing deeply, Oscar contemplated his words carefully as the seconds stretched between them and he quietly stepped up behind her. Fidgeting with the pointed end of the silk tie draped around his neck, he raised his right hand to loosen the fabric from its resting place before using his left to help in removing it. Gently, he took the garment and reached around her as he laid it softly over her clasped hands. Oscar whispered quietly to her back, "it's too late for that. And the words, and the every bit of heart behind them, are yours – always have been." Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, Oscar turned and dejectedly stalked his way back in the direction from which they came.

* * *

**I'd apologize, but I really don't know if I'm sorry or not. I am sorry for making you wait so long, though.**

**Comments/Questions/Suggestions - shoot 'em at me. Thanks for sticking with me. You are all fantastic!  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: The characters and the premise upon which they are based are not mine. Please don't sue me - you won't get much, if anything.**

**Author's Note: I'm so sorry! I feel like I haven't been able to come up for air in the last...forever, it seems. To make up for it, I made sure this last chapter was extra long - which also meant rewriting at least half of it - just for you fantastic folks.**

* * *

Angie worried Oscar's tie between her fingertips as she slowly followed the path back toward the party. Winding her way through the grounds, she took measured steps as she attempted to take time to reorganize her thoughts. Edging her way closer to the tent, Angie grasped the tie in her right hand and shoved it deeply into the jacket pocket, hiding it from view as she continued to nervously finger the silk fabric.

Stepping under the tent's edge, she squinted under the bright lights of the tent as her vision adjusted to the contrast of the brightness compared against the dark of the perimeter. Angie propped herself up against a supporting leg of the tent as she looked around the crowded gathering for her partner, finally spying him leaning on his elbows against the bar in the far corner. With his head hung low, Angie noticed how defeated Oscar looked; out of place amidst the jovial activities.

As she steeled her nerves to approach him, her journey to his side was cut short as the older Vega approached his son's side. Slowing her stride, Angie hung back amidst a small crowd to the left of the bar so she could observe the two men. Smiling ruefully, she wished she could offer her friend some comfort, while a loud voice in her head yelled about how she had probably burned that bridge. She'd consider herself lucky if he ever wanted anything to do with her ever again, let alone drive her home. Through the din of the celebration, Angie could only catch pieces of the men's conversation.

* * *

"I certainly hope that frown isn't for my benefit," the older man replied as he bumped his shoulder against his son's, sliding up beside him as he ordered another drink.

Prying his eyelids apart, Oscar lifted his chin to turn and face his father. "No sir," he replied softly. "Just thinking."

Smiling sadly at his son, the senior Vega man ordered a drink as he contemplated his next words carefully. "I'm by no means an expert on this love thing, but I think it's worth taking a chance."

Oscar bit back a smirk as he questioned his father, "How many chances?" He briefly wondered just how much the man knew of his current predicament; Oscar knew that Angie had spent a fair amount of time in the older man's company earlier this evening.

He also hadn't meant to be rude, but was he seriously about to listen to his father lecturing him about the merits of true love? Doubtful. Throwing the amber remnants of scotch against the back of his throat, he grimaced and reveled in the burn as it slid down.

"As many as it takes," his father spoke again.

"Are you -" Oscar began incredulously.

"Especially when she's the right one," his father interrupted, silencing the younger man's outburst. "I want you to think about this for a moment before you answer; how many times do you think I asked your mother to marry me? Better yet, to even consider taking a chance on me?"

Barking out a laugh, Oscar screwed up his face as he looked back at his father, but was met with a serious gaze. "Wait - seriously?"

His father nodded solemnly; "Seriously. She was - damaged, shall we say. It wasn't easy, but God, she was worth every minute I spent on her."

"Damaged? What are you talking about?" the younger Vega asked.

"Do you remember your mother's parents?" his father started. "I'll save you the trouble; the answer should be no. Your grandmother was in and out of the picture for a number of years before leaving for good, and your grandfather took it out on your mother. Abuse, neglect; you name it until he decided to abandon her altogether, too."

Oscar struggled to find the right words, mouth silently forming letters, but emitting no sound. Swallowing down a thick lump forming in his throat, he clenched his fists in an anger that he didn't know how to process. Blinking back tears of frustration, he turned back to stare at the intricate swirls of grain in the wooden bar.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as his father removed his wallet from his inside pocket. Opening the billfold, he removed a worn piece of paper, taped and frayed along various folds and edges. Laying it on the bar, the older man covered it with his palm as he spoke again.

"Your mother; God, she was beautiful, but she was never mine. We met through a mutual friend at the time, and grew closer. Eventually, I took that plunge - only to be turned down at least two-dozen times. And that was long before the marriage proposal!" His father laughed as he reminisced.

Sliding the paper across the bar between them, he nodded for Oscar to open it. With trembling fingers, the younger man gently unfolded the item and frowned at its contents. With shallow breaths, his eyes flew to the man to his right. "This can't - I don't -," he tried to speak.

"You're all I have left of her, Oscar, but I thought you should know," came the strangled reply. "There's a reason you're all her; and had you never come along, I'm afraid I never would have a chance with either one of you. It wasn't easy, and she was ready to run every day, but I made it the goal of my existence to remind her of my commitment to her, and you, every single moment of every day," the older man finished.

Oscar stared blankly at the document in front of him as he struggled with the information he had just been given. Tracing the faded loops of his mother's signature on the worn page, his gaze shifted as he stared intently at the blank void of the line below it. Pulling his hand away from the page, he threaded a hand through his curls before dragging it across his tired face. Blowing out a deep breath, he signaled for the bartender to bring another round of drinks.

"I should have told you a long time ago," the man to his right claimed. "All of this," gesturing to the festivities around them, "might have made more sense. Maybe we wouldn't even be here."

"What - what do you mean?" Oscar asked, momentarily confused.

"I've all but admitted to you that this marriage, and basically the others, has been to stave off loneliness. It's an ugly truth, but a truth nonetheless. But had we had this conversation years ago, you could have left and wouldn't have to suffer through any of it," the older replied. "And I'd completely understand -"

Oscar surprised the man as he turned, whispering a quiet, "No." After a moment, he enveloped him in a soft hug, burying his face in the man's neck. Shaking his head, he lifted it back before softly whispering, "Thanks...Dad."

Smiling back brightly at Oscar, the older man shoved him away playfully. "Now it's your turn," he encouraged. When the young man still didn't move, he shooed him away as he called out loudly, "Go!"

* * *

At his father's prompting, Oscar had spun on his toes and peered through the thick crowd of people to search for his partner. An unspoken link had been forged early into their partnership; tingles that shot up his spine alerting him to her presence long before she ever made herself known. She had once vocalized a mutual sensation, too, which initially freaked him out. Over time, he grew to accept the feeling, subtly ignoring the notion that he had never heard other teams of partners ever expressing a similar bond.

As the crowd before him dispersed, his gaze remained steady until Angie appeared before him. Oscar shoved his hands in his pockets out of habit as he observed Angie fiddle with the cuffs of his black jacket. Finally, he watched as her gaze slowly rose to meet his across the divide. Sharing an apologetic smile, the two partners gravitated toward one another.

"I'm -" Oscar attempted in apology before Angie silenced him with a sharp shake of her head as she placed the petite pads of her fingertips across his soft lips.

"Not here," Angie spoke quietly as she withdrew her hand, "but we do need to talk."

Oscar swallowed deeply as he tried to figure out exactly what to say next as he thumbed the worn paper in his pocket.

Glancing around the tent, Angie frowned before looking back at her partner. Biting down hard on her lower lip, she spoke her next words hesitantly. "Can we – would you mind if we got out of here?"

"What about your cake?" Oscar cautiously asked her.

"Forget the damn cake, will you? All I need is you," she threw back at him, paying little mind to the innuendo.

Her mind barely kept up with her mouth as she had the chance to register what had transpired. Oscar's eyebrows shot up quickly as her fingers quickly grasped the fabric around his warm biceps. Thumbing the crisp linen of the white dress shirt beneath her fingertips, Angie briefly looked over his shoulder in his father's direction, and then back to face him with a worried expression.

Oscar withdrew his hands from his pockets to usher her toward the edge of the tent. Swallowing nervously, he nodded understandingly as the gravity of the situation settled upon them. "Uh - sure," he responded thickly.

Efficiently making their way back to the front entryway of the home, the pair stopped to grab Angie's coat so they could account for all personal belongings. With her coat gripped tightly in her hands, Angie allowed Oscar to escort her to meet the valet at the curb and carefully climb into the sedan. Tipping the man for his service, Oscar quickly rounded the backside of the vehicle, red glow from the taillights illuminating his features.

As Oscar clicked his seat belt into place, Angie's hand gently settled atop his own stilling his movements. Slowly raising his eyes to meet hers, Angie voiced her question apprehensively.

"Do you mind if we take the long way home?" she asked. "I don't think I'm quite ready for this to end."

Oscar's stomach dropped as he set off on their meandering journey. He mentally envisioned them going their separate ways; her comment conjuring images of 'this' relationship, with all its intricacies and details, and the thought of officially coming to an 'end.' He didn't know if she was talking about them or the evening, but he knew for a fact that he wasn't brave enough to ask her to clarify the vague statement.

* * *

The partners drove in a heavy silence for a long time, along the edge of the city where man's industrial chaos melted into the simple serenity of the natural beauty of the coastline. Words could save them or break them, they realized, neither quite ready nor willing to be responsible for the worst.

Halfway through the final stop sign around the corner from her home, Angie released a shuddering breath. 'So this is it,' she thought to herself. Bringing her hands to her face, she attempted to physically force the tears that had begun blurring her vision back behind her eyelids. Feeling the vehicle slowly come to a stop at the curb, she attempted to regain some semblance of composure as she sniffled back unshed tears.

Pulling up to the curb and shutting off the engine, Oscar slid his palms over the cool leather of the steering wheel as he stared unblinking at the dashboard. Willing himself to speak, he breathed in a deep chest full of air.

"I'm sorry -," both partners spoke in time with one another. Exchanging glances, the car's two occupants shook their heads in disbelief.

"Great minds, huh?" Angie supplied.

"Something like that," Oscar responded.

"Go ahead; it may take me awhile," she offered to her partner, tracing the grooves in the leather armrest of the door. Silence momentarily settled over the two of them as Oscar mulled over the right words to say.

"Remember when we used to be partners?" he began.

Frowning, Angie looked over to her partner and then down at her hands where they rested tensely in her lap. Gently picking at her thumbnail, she wasn't sure how to respond to the question.

"I do, and the most important thing about partners, Angie, is that they're equals," Oscar continued. "I've always followed your lead, and I've always respected your strength. But I think that's what got us here; you bearing the load and I think it's time I spoke up. You see, partner, I don't think you should always get to make decisions for the both of us."

Angie's gaze returned to her partner. His features remained stoic, but she knew him well enough to watch for the subtle pinches and pulls of his muscles as the turbulent emotions flickered beneath the surface. Running a hand roughly through her curls, she waited on edge for the next onslaught, but it never came. With a long blink, she sighed deeply as she attempted to calm her thoughts.

Eyes still closed, Angie spoke softly as if her words alone would break the frayed bond between them. "I wish I could apologize for that…but I can't. More importantly, I won't. You won't understand, but my actions have always been to protect you," she began, briefly pausing to scoff at herself. "What a damn fool I was, and look where it got me." Slowly reaching across the empty space between them, Angie paused briefly before settling her warm palm against Oscar's forearm and squeezed tightly. "Other than my own son, there's not a single person in this world I would protect so relentlessly, and –"

"Stop!" Oscar interjected. "Stop sheltering me, especially from you! Trouble is, Angie, is that you've been protecting me for so long now; I don't think you know how to stop. I don't want your protection anymore…" he trailed off uncertainly.

A wounded look flashed across her face, only to be swept away by an expression of anger. "Oh – well – I'm sorry, then!" Angie shouted as she reached for the door handle. Flustered, she fought with clumsy fingers as she unlatched the door to climb out, slamming it violently behind her. Striding towards her front door, she fumbled through her purse in search of her keys. Chilling quickly in the evening air, her fingers moved thickly before dropping and spilling the purse on the sidewalk and causing its contents to scatter in what seemed like a million different directions.

"Dammit!" she exclaimed, dragging her fingers through her hair. Fighting back the oncoming tears, she carefully attempted to reclaim the lost items before dropping to her knees in defeat and settling back on her feet folded beneath her. Clinching her eyelids closed, she gave into soul wrenching ache that swept through her as the tears began to fall in heavy drops. Dropping her chin to her chest, her shoulders shook with stifled sobs.

Slowly collecting the assorted items strewn across the grass and sidewalk, Oscar swallowed thickly as he picked the items up one by one. Lastly, he came to the keys on the far edge of the sidewalk nearly swallowed up by the lush green grass. Thumbing the cold metal of the keys, he smiled ruefully as he traced the grooves in his own spare key on her key chain before flipping to its neighbor, Angie's own house key. Walking around her quivering form, he squatted down before her and gently pried the article from her tight grasp, returning most of the contents to their home in the purse. Shoving the purse up underneath his left arm, he gently closed his large fists around her smaller fists and assisted her to unsteady feet.

"C'mon," he whispered softly. "It's getting a little cold out here."

* * *

Angie stood lost in her front entryway for a lingering moment, before turning back toward her partner as he stopped the open door. Outlined by the door frame with shadows from the porch light concealing some of his features, Angie was startled by how vulnerable her partner appeared against the dark of the late night. Eyes cast downward, she watched as his shoulders heaved with a defeated sigh before looking back to her.

"Uh – here," he said, thrusting her purse and keys toward her.

Gently taking them from him, she continued to stare at him before lowering her gaze to look down to the stark white tile beneath her feet. As she heard him turn to leave, a jolt flew through her as reached out a hand to stop him. "Wait!" she called.

Stopping mid stride, Oscar turned toward her with an eyebrow raised and a heartbreaking expression etched across his face. "Angie; your knees -," he started as his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Glancing downward, Angie could just barely make out the reddened abrasions on the joints from where they peeked out just below the edge of her skirt. Looking back to Oscar, she noticed that he was now striding toward her once again, but paused just before he reached the threshold. Mouth poised to speak, Angie interrupted him as she reached over the door frame to bring him indoors and close the door behind him. For a moment, Oscar had the decency to look lost and ashamed as he debated his next move as she reached behind him to lock the door.

"I'll be back in a minute," she spoke quietly. Gesturing toward the living room, she offered for him to take a seat while she disappeared into the back of the house toward her bedroom. Walking quickly down the hall, she slightly closed the bedroom door to walk into her bathroom when she was struck by her exhausted reflection in the floor length mirror against the far wall. Lightly padding her way toward the reflective surface, she stood unblinking for a long moment as she took in her red rimmed eyes, moving on to observe the large jacket hanging loose on her slender frame and down to the angry mottled injuries on her knees.

A large part of her wanted to blame Oscar for the direction that the evening had suddenly taken, but deep down she knew that it wouldn't be fair, or right, to single him out. Being honest with herself, Angie knew that she was largely responsible for their relationship even getting to this point. Her unkempt reflection in the mirror only served to remind her of the wreckage that she fought so hard to keep away from him. Biting down hard on her bottom lip, she attempted to reconcile the strong emotions flowing through her. Lowering her gaze to the plush carpet beneath her toes, she blinked back tears for a moment before breathing deeply and returning her gaze to her tired face.

Barely startled by the new shadow in the reflection, Angie shifted her line of sight to meet the tired and sorrowful gaze of her partner's soft hazel eyes over her shoulder. Turning to face him, she lifted her hands from her side to shrug and run a rough hand across her weary eyes, ready for an attack. "Is this what you wanted; to see me damaged and weak? Some strong partner you've got now, huh? Look at me! I'm a wreck, and – and broken! You were right, okay?" she huffed out in frustration as she attempted to turn away from him once again.

Oscar quickly snatched her wrist, careful not to throw her off balance or hurt her. "Careful," she warned, "you may cut yourself on my shattered pieces," Angie snapped bitingly before she could turn around to face him fully. When she had finally rotated enough to stand toe to toe with him, Oscar released his grip from around her wrist and slowly traced his fingers down across her hand to thread his fingers through hers.

"At least I'll finally feel something," Oscar whispered. Pursing his lips for a moment, he inhaled deeply before continuing. "I don't care if you're broken, or if you're weak. I especially don't care that you think you're damaged, Angie. I certainly can't tell you why life chose you to be its personal punching bag, but – but dammit, Angie, it's not for nothing; I can promise you that. I'm not sure what it is for yet, but I know it can't be for the hell of it. And would you just forget about you for a moment; what if it's not you I'm trying to save?" he finished weakly.

Angie's eyebrows knit close together in confusion as she stared at her partner. She momentarily thought about attempting to reclaim her hand, but realized she was appreciative for the link anchoring her in place and tied to the moment. Before she could ask what he had meant, Oscar continued.

"It's not always about you, and your demons, Ang. Sometimes it's about others' demons, too. This wreckage here," Oscar spoke as he gestured between them, "we may not be able to salvage much of it on our own, but I think we make a pretty good team, you and I, so I think it may be worth a shot," he said hopefully.

Sighing deeply, Angie let her eyelids fall closed as the weight of his words sunk in. Chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully, she opened her eyes to meet her partner's concerned expression – waiting apprehensively for her to acknowledge his claim – and then conceded with a slight nod. "I don't know if the odds are in our favor, partner, but I do know that it certainly won't be easy."

"I'll take my chances with you any day," Oscar smirked lightly. With a slight shrug, he spoke again; "You may ruin me, Angie Flynn, but there's only one way to find out. You're worth it; and I'll prove it to you every damn day if I that's what it takes."

* * *

Exiting the elevator the following Monday morning, Oscar lifted his gaze from where he had been staring intently at his shoes to walk into the quiet darkness of the bullpen. Glancing briefly at his superior's closed office door, he wasn't surprised to see that he had beaten everyone into the office again this morning. Something still didn't feel quite right, he thought, as he shrugged out of his coat and turned to hang it his chair.

The glint of something metallic on his desk caught his attention as he turned the chair to sit in it, stilling his motions, he leant over to pick up the item and peer at the object closely. The item in question was composed of an array of different metals, some shinier than others, soldered together in a stitch-like pattern in various places to suture the different pieces together. Approximately the size of a golf ball, the small object had nearly identical anatomy to the human heart, and the details were incredibly accurate.

Tracing his thumb gently over the object, he turned to observe his partner's desk. Draped over the back of her chair was her token leather jacket coupled with an old familiar plaid scarf from long ago; he was momentarily fazed that the details had somehow slipped his attention. Gently running his fingers over the soft worn fabric, he followed the faint sounds of someone puttering around in the break-room.

Peeking his head around the corner, he smirked to himself as he watched his partner fight with the coffee maker in front of her. Muttering to herself, she smacked the stubborn object and slammed her fists down on the counter on either side of it. "Stupid machine," she muttered to no one in particular.

Rounding the corner and coming into the room, Oscar came up beside her and reset the machine with fluid motion, thus allowing the coffee maker to whir to life and begin the process of producing a pot of hot liquid energy. Turning to face his partner as he settled back against the counter, he crossed his hands over his chest as he examined the woman before him. "You're – uh – you're a little early, aren't you?" he questioned with a quirked eyebrow and a glance at his wrist as he observed the time. Slipping his right hand back into his pocket, he enclosed his fist around the metallic artifact in his pocket and then returned his arm back to its resting place against his chest.

Nervously looking at her partner, Angie simply nodded before returning her gaze to the steady stream of caffeine pouring into the glass pitcher of the machine. Crossing her own arms across her torso, she brought her hand up and began chewing on her thumbnail as she turned and rested her own hips against the counter next to him. Standing side by side, the partners stared off into the dark bullpen in silence.

After a few moments, Oscar gently raised his right hand from where it had been tucked into his chest. Clutching the small heart carefully, he lifted it up so that both he and his partner could study the item, turning it slowly to note the various details of its features. "It's beautiful," he finally whispered.

Feeling her shrug, he glanced toward her as she spoke softly. "It's not much, but it's the best I can do," Angie smirked. "I thought it was appropriate, you know, all things considered." Reaching up with her left hand, Angie gently ran her fingertip along the chinks of metal, paying special attention to the stitches fusing it together.

Breathing deeply, she lifted her gaze from the heart in his hand to meet his eyes, where he was already staring at her in awe. Warily, she lifted her fingers from where they rested on the gift to settle upon his bearded cheek. "Thank you," she whispered softly, running her thumb over the length of his cheekbone before drawing close and settling her lips lightly on his. Pulling back briefly, she met his lips once more.

Oscar responded in kind, before drawing back to settle against the counter once more. The chaste kiss had been innocent, but full of promise. "Every day, and I meant it," Oscar whispered once more before returning the heart to his pocket and turning to prepare Angie's mug of coffee. Handing her the mug, the two partners smiled at one another once more before reentering the bullpen, greeting their incoming colleagues and settling into their old routines.

* * *

**There you have it, folks. Once again, I'm so sorry for making you wait so long. It hasn't been easy to get any writing time in lately.**

**Comments/Questions/Suggestions (even for new plots?) - please let me know.**

**I've been asked, and since I can't reply through PM (Lookin' at you, SchaeferTXTX) - the document is a birth certificate.**

**And I don't normally single any one out for shout outs, but I feel I really need to do that this time. **

**Skylarcat - this was all you. You've been amazingly helpful and a great friend recently, and it was you that kept pushing me in such a good way with the songs and conversations. You know how they say, "We'll always have Paris"? Naaahhh; you and me, kid, we'll always have Vancouver.**


End file.
